A Curious Beginning

The Beginning of the First Story

There is a moment when a man decides to take an action or stay his course. For the man in this story, his moment had arrived. To any outside observer, it would have seemed an insignificant choice on a mundane day and hardly a world change. But that observation would be wrong.

The man’s hand held a knobby red root. It was obviously edible but honestly unappetizing. In haste, the man brushed off the root’s dirt and then just as suddenly stopped to stare.

How long did that moment stretch? An eon? A blink? Had time itself halted for a decision?

His hand trembled as he lifted the root to his face. He closed his eyes and oh-so-slightly touched it to his lips. He felt a bit of grit lingering on the root’s surface; the smell of soil reached up his nose. This was only a root; one bite was the choice.

And he was curious.

He blew out his breath. His teeth met with a crunch. The root let out a vaguely hot taste. He chewed, he swallowed. That was all.

The End of the First Story

So begins the history of the winged people of the Tykolm, a planet floating around a double star, somewhere only God can know in all the vastness of space and time. The children of the first family there unraveled the tapestry of eternity into the thread of time. They had held peace. They traded it for history, for history is the choice for conflict from its origin to its end.